Page 108 of The Last Lost Girl

How am I supposed to avoid saying it? Should I say it? It’s really his place to decide when he’ll use it, or if he even wants to.

Belle’s golden eyes meet mine as her brow peaks as if asking me if I want to talk to him right now.

By the determined look on his face there’s no avoiding it, so I nod to her that it’s okay. She frowns, then lingers a moment.

“Go, Belle. It’s okay,” I soothe.

When Smee holds out his hand, she reluctantly takes it and lets him pull her up.

I stand and turn to face the open water. Hudson moves to stand beside me, sinking so that his elbows rest on the rail. He keeps a ship’s length of distance between us.

Smee and Belle walk back into the captain’s quarters, but she keeps a close watch through the warped glass. My heart squeezes at the sight. She’ll burst through the windows in an instant if I need her to. I’ve never loved her loyal, beautiful heart and terrible, unhinged temper more than I do right now.

The wind’s cool fingers glide over our skin and play with our hair. Hudson is quiet for far longer than is comfortable. Eventually, I consider screaming at him to speak. He’s the one who demanded we talk when I was perfectly happy never looking at or talking to him again. Mostly.

“You saw far more than you ever should have,” he finally rasps. “I guess now you know everything there is to know about me, and I still know almost nothing at all about you.”

I glance at him and sigh. “You and me both. I didn’t see everything, though. I stopped it as soon as I could.”

He hums a response.

Over the ocean, the Second Star and its luminous companion burn beside one another. I admire their blended light.

I look down. It’s past time to tell him what’s been burning through my chest since I saw my hand grasp the saw’s handle in his memory. I straighten my back, though I’m not brave enough to face him. “I understand if you hate me.”

“Hate you?” he rasps as he moves closer. “I could never hate you.” He gently braces my chin in his hand, leans in, and presses a tender, lingering kiss to my lips.

It tastes like reverence, and I don’t understand why.

Dazed, I pull away. Our eyes collide and it’s not hatred I see.

He wraps an arm around my back as he steps forward, melting the distance between us and my knees with a chaste, insistent kiss. When he kisses me a second time, it’s more passionate. Ardent. It burns so thoroughly, I reduce to a flake of ash that still flares as it drifts back to earth.

And like the world, I know I’m exquisitely caught between his teeth’s sharp edges.

He lifts me and settles me onto the railing so that we’re the same height, holding me tight so I don’t fall backward into the sea, and slants his mouth over mine again.

Something behind us cracks, and he pulls away. We turn to look and see my sister standing at his window. The glass panes between her and us shudder in their muntin beds as her fingers slide down one square. Splinters spread from her touch to its edge, a small sliver of the web of destruction.

“Belle?” I say, wondering why she’s so upset.

“She disapproves of me,” he quietly tells me, wearing another savage smile. “Too fucking bad.”

Before I can consider why she might object to Hudson, he nudges my legs apart to settle between them, then hooks my calf and draws it around his back. I take the opportunity to kiss his glorious throat, moving my way toward his jaw.

“Lifeguard…” he growls.

He once told me he was darkness. If that’s true, then I’m starlight, brilliant in his arms. Shining for him instead of in spite of him.

My fingers rake over his stubble and tangle in his hair. I arch my back until his mouth is at my chest and he’s a man starving. His hook rakes into the v of the shirt I borrowed from him. The fabric tears and…

I can’t get close enough, can’t feel enough of his skin, but I feel where his fingers sink into my back. They’re as strong and sure and skilled as his mouth.

Our sounds are carnal, torn from chests and places deeper. Gasps and grunts that all translate to say one thing: More.

Heedless of the crew milling around the ship, I push my softness against his hand and he goes still, then closes his eyes for several panting breaths.

“Ava,” he breathes.

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